


it's (not) raining somewhere else

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Series: Kylux Short Fics/Drabbles [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, First Loves, High School AU, M/M, Sad Blowjobs, Smangst™, Tropes Ahoy, in which Hux is 18 and Kylo is 21, reverse canon age difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 08:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12955380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: Here is where we are and will ever be is this one final moment before it all comes crashing down in front of us.Hux receives a letter from a prestigious university and everything changes.





	it's (not) raining somewhere else

**Author's Note:**

> Just an excuse to post Kylux angst for the fandom before TLJ hits. Also note: despite the mentioned reverse age difference, Hux is a senior in high school and of consenting age. Kylo is two, barely three years older. Leave me alone.

 

Sheltered in a casing of glass and rusted steel, of worn vinyl upholstery that smells like stale cigarettes, Hux opens his eyes.

Rain pings off the windshield coming down in fat droplets and rolling down the sides. Summer showers surround them, falling onto the leaves, the secluded hilltop they’re parked on. The familiar, cramped quarters of the truck’s interior leave little room between the occupants. Breathy exhalations, the quiet hum of the AC not loud enough to mask the noises of both passengers.

_“Hux.”_

Kylo’s voice sounds strained, subdued as Hux looks down at his hands, nails chewed to the quick. Sees the still open fly of his khaki trousers, the elastic of his briefs still tucked under his flaccid cock.

Across from him Kylo still has his hair up in a messy bun, large ears even more prominent with nothing obscuring  them from view. He wipes the excess spit on his glistening lips away exaggeratedly with the back of his hand, then onto his seat as Hux awkwardly readjusts himself and buttons up his trousers.

He can’t stand to look at Kylo right now, but also can’t seem to look away.

He ends up furtively half-glancing. Snapshots of the tense line of his shoulders, the thick swell of the muscles of his chest and biceps. How it would be so easy to reach over and rest his hand on Kylo’s knee and watch his anxiety melt immediately, instead of coming off of him in nauseating waves.

“You okay, kid?” Kylo asks, pushing back a lock of hair behind his ridiculous ears.

Hux schools the desire to roll his eyes as reply as he thinks of how miserable the blowjob he just received ten minutes ago was. Kylo had been more enthusiastic than other recent times, but it was hard for either of them to miss Hux’s cock going embarrassingly soft halfway through the hastily planned sex session they both agreed to.

He looks back down at his hands, their scraped knuckles. The hangnail he can’t seem to stop chewing on and the crescent moon marks of his nails biting into his palms.

Imperfections. Carelessness.

He and Kylo were approaching another anniversary and — _Jesus Christ, had it really been that long_ — the stifling thought of what came next for them was more than enough to kill any of the residual libido Hux had left in him, if the crumpled letter from Harvard in his back pocket hadn’t already.

He was not happy anymore, _they_ were not happy.

He always did have a problem acknowledging his failures, and this one? The whole situation was, frankly, _appalling._

High school crushes had evolved into young love, but Kylo’s graduating made it apparent to Hux  they were on radically different trajectories. Kylo had still wavered between wanting to go into the military or work in a shop like his dad while waiting for Hux to graduate, despite Hux and his uncle trying to get him to follow more scholarly pursuits.

Hux himself had already been singled out his freshman year as one of classes’ most brilliant minds and had multiple college scholarships awaiting the end of his senior year. He could be a doctor, lawyer, psychologist, business analyst, anything really. But the thought of anything less than using his absolute potential in a job paralyzed him in fear he often didn’t share with Kylo. More often than not their recent petty squabbles had escalated to full fledged arguments because of it.

“It’s raining,” he replies dumbly, because it’s the first thing his mind supplies even though it has little bearing on the situation until Hux tries to figure out his fate _after_ he gets out of the car.

“No shit.”

“Unseasonably.”

“Maybe we’ll have a hurricane?” Kylo half-shrugs, every bit as aloof and apathetic as ever. He fumbles around side compartment for something for a moment, hand coming up clutching a half-crumpled pack of his second-favorite brand of cigarettes.

_Never his favorite brand, he once told Hux as he declined the cigarette offered, otherwise he’d never quit._

But they aren’t here to talk about the weather or preferred brand of cigarettes. If Kylo had his way they probably wouldn’t be here talking _period._

Hux would already be slicked up with the old bottle of lube Kylo kept in the glove compartment, three fingers up his ass and begging for Kylo’s cock. Kissing him as passionately as the first time they furtively explored each others mouths then bodies, Kylo’s large hand gripping both their cocks together.

If Kylo had his way, things would be infinitely easier. Simpler. He'd stay and they’d be a tangle of pale freckled legs and arms entwined, cramped spaces for stolen snatches of time instead of the stilted silences they seem to be trapped in as of late. The only conversation would be a litany of sighs and curses from both of them. Encouragements Kylo would string together for him like hitting the high notes in a duet, each passing more intense than the previous.

Cocky, but he used to like it; how assured Kylo was when he was with him.

Not like now.

Not in a beat up truck. Not in the rain.

Not _miserable._

“Do you still love me?” Kylo finally asks, giving up on rummaging for an accompanied lighter and using the one in the pickup to light his cigarette. He avoids Hux’s eyes. Face a stony mask, brow furrowed, eyes unfocused ahead of him. The fingers of his other hand grip the steering wheel so tight the knuckles bleed white.

Hux can easily see the chiaroscuro, crisscrossed map of scars from fights that have accumulated on them and feels a pang of guiltiness. Some of those were because of him. Playground slurs aimed like arrows in his direction Kylo fought off with fists Hux would bandage afterwards glaring as he told him he didn’t need saving, never needed saving.

He sucks in a breath at the directness of his question, but that was Kylo. Direct. Never one to pull punches and never one to skirt around issues needing addressing.

Mouth full of cotton, tongue sluggish and slow to respond unlike his usual quick, cutting wit, he still has no reply. Inhaling the smell of nicotine and Kylo’s shitty, drugstore-bought cologne he hears the cacophony of _plink-plink-plinks,_ the rain drumming on the steel top of the truck a timer keeping track of the seconds accumulating he’ll have to face outside at some point _._ A not-quite metered rhythm as syncopated as they’ve both become with each other.

Maybe it will make things easier for Kylo if he tells him he never did. That it was all a lie, an easy conquest of an idolater. That he had never felt one iota of attraction to him past a convenient lay. Slip into the icy demeanor he’s well-known for like a second skin as he breaks his boyfriend’s heart, watching it shatter like glass in the glass cage they’re already in.

“Did you ever love me?” Kylo asks the words, slowly. Carefully.

A fervent voice in his mind that isn’t his says, _yes,_ _I do, I did. I did so much. I thought we’d be together forever, but I was naïve. Forever for us wasn’t that long._

_Stars, that sounds pathetic._

_“Goddammit, Hux!”_

Hands slamming against the steering wheel, Kylo’s explosive outbursts had long since passed the point of being able to startle him. A temper was one thing, — _and oh did Kylo have a temper_ — but Kylo’s anger rarely had the sharp edge of cruelty Hux was so familiar with from his peers, his father, his brother, that sent a jolt of fear down his spine. 

Kylo’s breathing turns heavy. It fogs the windshield like frosted glass in front of him as his mouth is still open, paused.

“How can I fucking fix what's wrong if you won’t fucking talk to me about it! You never talk  anymore! You just bottle it up, never tell anyone you’re fucking miserable and stepford smile through that shit, like— _what the fuck, Hux!”_

“Kylo—” he finally interrupts. “Are you happy?”

 _“What?”_ The other man looks at him startled, mid-rant, brown eyes wide as he nearly drops the now burnt down, nub of a cigarette in his hand. “What, like in general? Shit happens. _Whatever.”_

Hux can’t help but arch an eyebrow at that response.

“Aren’t you?” He aims for a sarcastic smile, but Hux looks Kylo in the eyes and sees something pass across his pronounced features.

_Fear._

It’s a look he’d have a hard time placing on the other man’s features— __if it wasn’t so obviously there._ _

Kylo, who took three people in a fight and shattered his arm without backing down to save a girl in an alleyway one night they went out. Kylo, who gets keyed-up claiming adrenaline is the only high he needs and does stupid shit with their friend Poe just for the hell of it. Kylo, who stood up to his parents shitty brand of lackadaisical parenting at fourteen only to be sent to live with his uncle because they thought it was better for his future than where he was, and took it all in stride.

As a general rule, Kylo doesn’t fear things. But he’s human, and every human has a weakness.

And Hux knows what Kylo fears most. 

The air in the truck becomes so thick it's dizzy overwhelming to his senses. A claustrophobic cacophony of sounds and smells. Human heat and smoke and sex, the sour tang of sweat and fear, the creak of the upholstery as he fidgets in his seat. He wants to crack a window or just bolt all together now that he’s opened his mouth and Kylo’s eyes stopped meeting his minutes ago, hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel after he discarded his cigarette out the window.

“No. I’m not. I’m not happy with this charade we’ve been fooling ourselves into thinking will continue to work.”

“Charade? Not even calling it a _relationship_ —” Kylo spits the word venomously, while staring out the windshield. “anymore?”

“No. Not anymore, Kylo.”

His reply is quick. Simple and effective. Like a guillotine. Someone once told him, _strike well once and you don’t have to strike again, boy._ And he’s not sure who it was but it stuck and he can’t help but feel the same sick satisfaction he gets as striking an arrow into a bullseye from 50 yards back once the words are out and can't be taken back.

“Fuck,” Kylo replies, before hanging his head in defeat, arms crossed on the steering wheel. “Okay. Fuck.”

He spends a moment more in the truck in the silence before the gnawing feeling of needing to leave overwhelms him. Gathering the articles of clothing he took off earlier, Hux adjusts his collar and combs his fingers through his hair as Kylo purposely ignores him. Ignores the loud click of the doors unlocking, of Hux getting out of the car as quickly as possible before he changes his mind.

Hux looks through the window from the outside after he closes the door, but Kylo’s more of a blurry outline as the rain sluices down. It flattens his auburn hair, pools inside his collar and shoes, but he doesn’t regret it. It had to be done.

Something numb passes over him as he hears the sound of the engine turning over, the crunch of gravel as the truck pulls away. A part of him leaves with the other man as he stands in the rain. Watches the taillights of the battered Toyota grow smaller and smaller in the horizon. They’re two pinpricks of red in the distance when he finally fishes his phone out of his wet khakis to call Phasma for a ride home.

It’s still raining when her silver coupe arrives, crunching over the same gravel Kylo left on, but Hux doesn’t mind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> for more kylux hell, weird ass writing shit and fandom wank once TLJ hits, follow me on tumblr @ [purple-satan-fic](http://purple-satan-fic.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> title is actually from an undertale remix ~ [it's raining somewhere else by sharaX](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUKp7dEDEBE). good tunes.


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